


So Bad

by Draconic (whos_madison)



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drinking, M/M, Miyoshi is a Succubus, No D-Agency, Partying, Right Into Fucking Though, Sakuma Can't Help Himself, Slow Emotional Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whos_madison/pseuds/Draconic
Summary: So what happens when a narcissist with an insatiable sex drive and a cunning smile develops a sudden interest in the headstrong new guy who regards loyalty and truth above all else?A lot of screwing around both inside and out of the bedroom, probably.





	1. Chapter 1

The base of the music pounds against Sakuma’s eardrums. It thrummed through the walls, reverberated over the floorboards, shimmied up his shoes, and trembled in his bones - as though the vibrations thought they could make him dance by possessing him. Unfortunately for them, the tall, ebony-haired male would need a couple more drinks before that happened.

Sakuma’s deep indigo optics peered attentively over the rim of his red solo cup as he took a quick sip, and he shuddered as the spiked beverage trailed hotly down his throat. The coke and rum that had been supplied as punch was steadily working its way through his blood, leaving him with a wonderfully warm sensation that made the world seem a little bit brighter and his worries a bit further away; it encouraged him to drink more. However, Sakuma was a very disciplined man, and he didn’t want to get completely shit faced only one hour into his first party on campus.

Originally, Sakuma had attended the Private University of Chicago on a full-ride scholarship, however he’d spent his first two and a half years of it miserably. There, the lectures were strict minefields, the dining hall a den of hierarchy, and the people in general had been so snobbish that Sakuma’s relatively sturdy self-control had wavered at least once every day. Homesickness was an understatement for him, but it wasn’t want for a certain location, or environment. It was longing for his high school friends - his brothers - of whom had all scattered out to different colleges across the country. To his dismay, after only a year many of them had lost contact due to distance and focus on their studies.

Shogo Takami, one of Sakuma’s closer friends, was one of the few to keep up with him and vice versa. Still, it wasn’t until halfway through his first semester as a junior that Sakuma finally confessed to his former classmate how unhappy he was. Shogo had laughed at first, and then immediately suggested transferring to his university in New York- as though it were the most obvious course of action. Sakuma, being the single-minded man he was, hadn’t even thought of that. 

Less than a month later, Sakuma had all of his things together, the proper paperwork filled out, and an acceptance letter clenched in his fist as he waited to board a plane bound for The Empire State. Other than a little turbulence on the aircraft and awkwardness at having to introduce himself to new people in each class, his transition into the new school went smoothly. And that is how he found himself here at The University of New York’s Kappa Mu fraternity house during their end-of-semester party.

“Sakuma!” The voice interrupts Sakuma’s thoughts, and the male in question tears his gaze away from the crowd of dancing students to face who had called him. Upon recognition, a grin instantly cracks across his countenance. 

“This better than those stupid private kid parties or what?” Shogo had appeared behind the ebony haired male, his arms outstretched to encompass the room-turned dance floor before them. He was about four inches taller than Sakuma and bigger around, but that was because of his constant trips to the gym and fascination with protein shakes. The shorter male knew the other had no real reason to build muscles as much as he did, he simply enjoyed the workout and attention he received from shallow girls at parties much like this one. The man’s sharp jawline, close-cropped black hair, and sea-green optics made him perfect eye candy for spring breaker chicks. 

“I didn’t even go to any of the parties in Chicago.” Sakuma raised his voice in order to match Shogo’s, so that the latter could hear him over the music. He switches his drink from one palm to the other and claps his now free hand onto his companion’s shoulder, leaning in a bit to continue, “I wasn’t interested in hearing about the brand new cars their daddies bought them, or the yacht that wasn’t big enough.” 

Shogo chuckled at the mockery that dripped from the other male’s tone and leaned against the wall they stood beside. He paused to take a sip of his drink before replying, “People talk about that here too, just with bail out money and dick sizes. The difference is, if you’re lucky and talk loud enough, you can impress a chick right into her panties.”

“What, you don’t have a bunch of gold diggers here, too?” Sakuma raises an eyebrow and allows his gaze to sweep across the room once more. It was mainly an undulating crowd of tight mini skirts and high heels, with the intermingling of young men in jeans and logged shirts sporting their fraternity affiliation. Sakuma himself was wearing a pair of light wash Levis, pristine white Adidas, and a dark blue collared long-sleeve that fit nicely against his built torso.

“Oh no we do,” Shogo assured him, nodding his head both to his own words and the music in the background. He grins and winks, adding on, “But we’ve got plenty of easy-sleazy girls too. C’mon, let me introduce you to Tsubaki. It’s like a rite of passage to get between her legs.”

Sakuma can’t help but shake his head at his companion’s words. However, he follows the taller male’s form as it exits the spare room set aside for dancing, and they enter the slightly less populated living room. To the right there was a large couch with a sizable coffee table set in front of it, upon which a group of people were playing cards. A squeal rings out from that side of the room due to a girl winning a hefty bet, and her male companion was tickling her in retaliation. The remaining plushy chairs and recliners set out for the party had been dragged into little circles as cliques claimed them, and all around everyone seemed to be having a good time drinking and mingling. 

Shogo leads Sakuma past the little pods of conversations, tossing a quick, “Let’s refill our drinks” over his shoulder as he heads for the kitchen. The shorter male glances down into his half-full cup and shrugs, taking a large swig. He’d come here to have fun, after all.

“Hey, Sho.” A girl with rich mocha skin and glittering gold bands all the way up her arms calls out over her shoulder as the two men enter. Her pitch black hair was braided elegantly to one side, and her dress was a crimson shade with a classy cut that showed off her petite figure. She was currently muddling some mint and lime into a glass, acting as an impromptu bar tender. “Whatcha want? And who’s your friend?” 

“Two Crowns and Coke,” Shogo replies, shooting her a smile before waving his almost-empty drink toward his companion. “This is Sakuma Toshinori, a buddy of mine from high school. Sakuma, this is Jen.”

“Hello, nice to meet you.” Sakuma states politely, nodding to Jen as she casts her gaze towards him. Then, his brow furrows in confusion as a snicker worms its way across her features.

“Yeah, how about some bourbon instead? We need to booze that “nice guy” schtick out of your friend.” The dainty female’s eyes glitter with tease as she addresses Shogo right before turning to finish mixing her drink.

Shogo laughs at the nonplussed expression now clouding Sakuma’s face, causing the latter to shake his head and chuckle along with him. 

“Guess I’ve been in a different world for too long,” he states after a moment, bringing his cup to his lips again and gazing out at the party from the relative calm of the kitchen. The gallery’ wide entrance left it open to the rest of the house, but it was most immediately accessible to living area, being separated only by a long faux-marble counter at which sat three people on pub stools. Jen had apparently been making cocktails for two of them, and after placing each their drinks on the counter, they left, allowing Sakuma to see more of the great room in their absence. 

In one of the groups, there was a blonde girl arm wrestling a brunette over the side of a recliner. They were giggling and talking over the stalemate they faced, however after a few moments the first girl leaned forward and mashed her lips against the second’s. Loud whoops from their friends follow as the chestnut-haired girl’s hand falls down in her surprise.

At another circle, five people were playing what looked like a word of mouth game, sort of like telephone, where they whispered things to each other in turn. Whatever the phrase currently was, it elicited a lot of laughter. The game struck Sakuma as a bit childish, however, he soon realized that they’d turned it into a drinking game, and took shots whenever the ending sentence came out wrong.

“Ah damn.” After a few moments, Shogo’s voice interrupts Sakuma’s people-watching, and the latter glances over his shoulder to see the former frowning. The taller male tosses his words back to Jen, but keeps his narrowed gaze forward as he asks, “Who invited Delta fraternity?” 

Sakuma’s cobalt optics follow his friend’s line of sight to where a group of three men had just arrived. If he hadn’t been looking, Sakuma wouldn’t have really noted their entrance, and this caused him to wonder why they unsettled his high school friend so much to notice. His gaze roved over the trio as he listened to Jen reply with, “How should I know? I’m not in Kappa Mu. I didn’t make the guest list.”

The man that came in first was the tallest of the three, and it was firstly abundantly obvious that he was a heartbreaker. He held himself with an air that exuded mischief and self-assurance, with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline to match. His hands were tucked casually into the pockets of a pair of jogger-styled khakis, and he wore a white shirt underneath a smart black jacket that hugged his lithe form. His purposefully unkempt, right-parted hair and grinning hazel optics could make someone swoon on the spot.

“What’s wrong with them being here?” Sakuma asks Shogo, flicking his gaze toward his companion for a moment before returning it to the newcomers.

Following the playboy was a shorter male that looked a bit too young to be a freshman in college, however his height and boyish features were the only things that hinted as such. The cocoa-colored optics on either side of his nose were majorly dull and disinterested as he glanced about the room, as though he’d already decided that this party was going to be a bore. Like his companion, he was wearing khakis, but they were just a touch lighter in hue; he donned a letter-man cut black and white hoodie, which was unzipped to reveal a gray tee underneath.

“I just don’t like them,” Shogo responds with a frown, his tone edging on bitter. “They’re kinda shady and always have this holier-than-thou attitude, as though collectively as a fraternity they’re better than everyone else. Rumor has it they always cheat on exams, and I wouldn’t doubt it. They get the highest marks every time.”

Sakuma’s gaze finally trailed over the last man, whose attire was a bit more formal. He wore a pair of dark navy - almost black - slacks with a collared white button-up. Overtop of that he’d slipped on a deep crimson long sleeve that brought out just a slight hue of russet in his side-swept brown hair. His countenance was angular, and a cocky sort of half-smile laced his maw, as though he knew everybody’s secrets, and was just waiting to see what he could do with them. Sakuma was struck by how handsome his face was, and the men before him had been gorgeous as well. It was easy to see how people, including the ravenette’s friend, might be off-put by them if they were quick to stereotype.

“Damn Shogo, getting jealous over some one’s grades? Uni really changed you,” Sakuma states as he tears his gaze away from the trio, filled with the sudden urge to tease his companion. The taller male starts and then lightly smacks at the other’s arm, cracking a smile despite his obviously soured mood. 

“But honestly,” he presses. “I would stay away from them if I were you. They give me a bad feeling.” Shogo had reverted back to a serious tone, making the other males’s eyebrows arch in surprise. As long as Sakuma had known him, Shogo had never been the superstitious kind, and he usually preferred to meet people before judging them so harshly. The shorter male quietly studies the unsettled expression his friend wears, wondering about what other gossip circulated around this Delta fraternity, and whether or not something had happened between them and Shogo.

Sakuma’s optics eventually wander their way back out toward the living room as he ponders, and as they do so he becomes aware of the strange sensation that someone is watching him. He quickly peruses through the crowd with narrowed eyes and freezes with a jolt as his indigo optics clash with a pair of mahogany ones.

It was the last male in the Delta fraternity group; the man’s gaze was intense, fixing Sakuma in place effortlessly as he regards the ravenette from across the room. It’s critical and piercing as though he could see right through Sakuma, and the way his head tilts ever so slightly, a growing smile slowly curling his lips skyward- it makes warmth wash over the taller male. Sakuma can’t seem to look away from him as the brunette says something to his companions out of the corner of his mouth, not once severing their eye contact. 

“Two bourbons on the rocks.” Jen’s voice finally breaks the spell, causing the ebony-haired male to jump in surprise. Quickly turning away from the Delta frat, he shakes his head in an attempt to clear it and hastily trades his now empty red solo cup for a new one. 

 _What was that?_  he thinks to himself, his brow furrowing in confusion as he peers down at the caramel-hued liquid sloshing in his hand without really seeing it. His skin buzzed with a dull excitement that wasn’t alcohol-induced, and a majority of his blood had rushed to a place it really shouldn't have. Sakuma rolls his eyes inwardly, coming to the only feasible explanation he could think of. Really, anybody would have been turned on by that man’s bedroom eyes; he was simply that attractive. The ravenette tilts his head back and takes a big gulp of his drink, forcibly telling himself that all it was, was Shogo’s paranoia overflowing into him, making him think there was something special about those men.

“And I added a little something extra to make your night more fun. You can thank me later.” Sakuma looks back up as Jen speaks and hands Shogo his drink, a sly grin making her eyes glimmer. At first Sakuma frowns, as he wasn’t looking to do illegal drugs or anything else of the sort, but Shogo shoots him a look that calms his nerves. They’d been through thick and thin together, and Shogo was a responsible guy; Sakuma would trust him if he told him it was fine. The drink hadn’t tasted funny or too strong anyways, so his worries quickly dissipated into nothing.

Shogo thanks Jen for the drinks, and Sakuma again finds himself gazing out across the crowd of people. He yanks his eyes back to the dark-skinned woman, throwing out a quick apology and thank-you, as he didn’t want to seem rude. Still, Sakuma cannot deny the curious disappointment he felt at realizing that all three of the Delta fraternity members had disappeared. 

“C’mon man, lets go party!” Shogo grabs a hold of Sakuma’s arm, and pulls him toward the living room, his loud, obnoxious, but -at least to Sakuma- endearing personality back in full swing. The shorter male lets out a sigh, inwardly berating himself for his abnormal behavior and attempting to get back into the mood as well. Outwardly, he returns Shogo’s grin and follows him back to the dance floor, this time forcing himself not to search the crowd for a shock of silky russet-brown hair.

 

Sakuma had no idea what Jen had placed in his cup, but he loved it. It somehow made the blaring music both louder and more subdued, so that it trilled constantly, but distantly in the back of his awareness, and allowed him to focus on the wonderfully lightweight feeling of his limbs. Two regular drinks more and the world became fuzzy around the edges of his vision. The vibrations from the base eventually took over, and though Sakuma couldn’t recall when he’d started dancing, he was soon lost in a mix of gyrating hips and hands that occasionally groped or brushed past him. He didn’t mind too much though, even when he misplaced Shogo somewhere in the haze. 

He remembered playing beer pong with a Kappa Mu frat boy when a lull came in the music, and he barely managed to win after a close game of back and forth drinking. His whole body hummed electrically with all the alcohol in his system, and he knew he was lucky to be tall and have eaten plenty before arriving. Otherwise, he’d have been curled over a toilet bowl a long time ago. 

However, three songs and two shots later, Sakuma began searching for the rest room for a different reason. Luckily for him, there wasn’t a line nor anybody occupying the loo when he finally found it and he slipped inside, quickly shutting the door in order to muffle the thunderous noise from outside. However, the music took to booming against the wall instead. Its base vibrated into his knees, and though it made it impossibly hard to stand up straight, especially due to his state of inebriation, Sakuma eventually completed his task safely. He had to squint against the bright lights and cursed when he fumbled in washing his hands. The soap dispenser clatters loudly into the bowl of the sink and Sakuma finally thinks to himself that perhaps he’d had enough alcohol for one day. His vision was blurry, and his brain could only focus on one thing at a time; he hoped he’d be able to remember everything in the morning.

The water was still running over Sakuma’s sudsy hands when the bathroom door’s knob turned, causing the ebony-haired male to start in alarm as a techno song suddenly blared against his eardrums. 

“What the fuck-” He growls out his words, but stops short upon glancing up to see who’d entered.

That one man from the Delta fraternity trio stood halfway into the rest room, his burgundy gaze boring into Sakuma with an eyebrow raised in moderate surprise. Since the ravenette had last seen him, the other had removed his red pullover and rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up, revealing the smooth skin of his forearms. He still looked as perfect as when he’d arrived, which is no small feat when attending a college frat part.

Currently, the brunette’s hand was still grasping the handle of the door and holding it open, however, after a pause, he stepped further into the bathroom, pulling the door partially shut in the process.

“I did knock,” he stated, his gaze roving up and down Sakuma as though he were drinking in the sight of him. The male’s voice dripped like honey from his tongue, and the words laced in his tone weren’t the only things to make a wave of warm embarrassment wash over the ravenette.

“Sor- sorry, I didn’t hear it. But, ah, I’m almost done.” Sakuma hurriedly replies, trying to keep his words from slurring too much in mortification as well as drunkenness. He could have sworn he’d locked the door when he entered, but his memory was so fuzzy, he couldn’t really be sure. His brows pull together as he tries to recall, but the gorgeous face before him further increases the difficulty of his concentration. Then, as though just realizing that he was still in the middle of washing his hands, Sakuma rips his gaze away from the other’s and finishes rinsing soap off of his fingers, struggling to focus through the haze of alcohol enveloping him.

“Not to worry.” A crisp click follows the brunette’s reply, indicating that he’d shut the door entirely now, and the noise causes Sakuma to look up while he reaches for a towel to dry his hands. He pulls one off of a rack bolted into the wall as the other continues, “I’m glad I caught you actually. I wanted to introduce myself.”

Now, if Sakuma had been in a better state of mind, he would have thought of the situation as a bit strange. Was a bathroom really an appropriate setting for introductions? Not that he was homophobic or anything, in fact he was openly bisexual, but either way Sakuma wouldn’t have allowed a stranger to stand so casually within a private restroom with him for a relatively weak reason, especially if its size was a small as the one they currently occupied. There was barely two feet of space between the pair with the half-bath’s toilet and sink taking up a majority of the room.

But those things would have only come to mind had Sakuma been sober. The only thing could focus on right now was the sharp smell of cinnamon and amber that wafted up towards him as the shorter male stepped closer. 

A smokey tobacco scent curled invisibly toward him as well when the brunette reached up and straightened the collar of the taller man’s shirt, his fingertips bushing briefly against the back of Sakuma’s neck. An electric shock ran up the taller man’s spine at the contact, and he found himself lamenting its loss when it pulled away.

Again, normally, the ravenette would have protested at such an intimate gesture from even an acquaintance, but now his hands simply hung before him, holding the baby blue towel in his fists absentmindedly as those mahogany eyes once again found his.

“I’m Miyoshi Yutaka, a junior in Delta fraternity.” Miyoshi doesn’t step back once removing his hands from Sakuma’s clothing, remaining so close that he had to look up a bit in order to maintain eye contact. “And your name?”

“Sakuma,” The male in question forces out, the other’s nearness and wonderful scent intoxicating him. Sakuma was gripped with the sudden urge to feel Miyoshi’s skin again, yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the brunette’s captivating optics. He swallows thickly and then continues, “I’m Sakuma Toshinori.”

“Indeed, you are new here. Otherwise, I would have known your name.” A smirk lifts the corner of Miyoshi’s lips skyward, and he leans forward ever so slightly, tilting his head to the side. The action draws Sakuma’s attention to the curve of his neck, and the ravenette’s eyes follow the line as it slopes down into the collar of Miyoshi’s shirt before disappearing beneath the fabric. He almost reached out and pushed the cloth away to see more, but instead he snapped his eyes back up to Miyoshi’s, as though fearful of being caught ogling. Making no indication of having noticed, however, the brunette continues, “How long have you been on campus?” 

“A little over a month.” Sakuma blinks, jumping slightly when Miyoshi’s hand casually places itself on his forearm. It simply rests there for a moment, but it still makes Sakuma’s pulse hammer against his veins.

“I’m guessing you haven’t joined a fraternity then. After all, Kappa Mu isn’t very selective in who they invite. Are you having fun at this party?” Miyoshi’s silken voice continues like he knows its lilting cadence was hypnotizing the taller male. His fingers trail slowly up Sakuma’s arm and slide to a halt on his shoulder, the barely-there caress making a shiver run up the taller male’s spine. Sakuma hardly even registers that Miyoshi has stepped even nearer, mere inches of air separating them now.

Before Sakuma can reply, the shorter male breaks their locked gazes in the act of leaning forward. The ravenette’s breath hinges as he feels the warmth of the other’s teasingly pass over his skin. Miyoshi murmurs into his ear, “I bet I can make it a lot more fun.” 

Suggestion lied heavily in that simple phrase, and it made heat pool in the taller male’s groin. When the brunette pulls back, Sakuma’s lips are parted wordlessly, and the former seems to take that as permission to a question he hadn’t actually asked.

Miyoshi’s lips are soft as they press up against Sakuma’s, and for a moment the ravenette is at a loss for what to do. Part of him was deeply bewildered and wanted to know what was going on; however, another part of him ached for more. In the end, the latter part reigns, and after the moment of shock dissipates, Sakuma’s eyes flutter shut. 

The taller man melts into the kiss as Miyoshi’s mouth works gently against his own, the towel in his palms falling soundlessly to the floor. The brunette’s tongue flicks out against Sakuma’s bottom lip in a silent request for entrance, and after a second of hesitation, it’s given. Their tongues then dance across each other, allowing Sakuma to taste alcohol and and saliva and a hint of tobacco as his hands come up to rest on Miyoshi’s hips. 

After a few heartbeats, the hand on Sakuma’s shoulder shifts to hold the nape of his neck, pulling him down and closer, slotting his mouth against Miyoshi’s. The temperature in the room seems to climb, and though both become noticeably short of breath, neither break away; they simply deepen the kiss, hungrily searching for more. Sakuma becomes bold, allowing lust and liquor to take over his actions. His palms slide around to Miyoshi’s back, drawing him flush against his chest and pressing his finger tips into the fabric of the other’s white shirt when even that nearness was not enough. In response, Miyoshi tangles his free hand into Sakuma’s pitch-hued locks, forcibly tilting the ravenette’s head to kiss at a better angle.

Abruptly, Sakuma steps to the side, catching Miyoshi by surprise and turning him before forcefully pinning his lower back to the lip of the sink. There’s no protest from the latter however, and he leans against the empty basin, allowing the taller male to arch his spine backwards in his aggression. Their hands wander everywhere, touching as though trying to memorize both the shape of the body before them and the texture of the meaningless clothes between. Sakuma can feel his blood steadily flowing southward and he slips one foot in between Miyoshi’s, pressing his thigh against the other’s groin to grind their hips together. The dull base thrumming through Sakuma’s body provided a rhythm, and he used it as a guide while Miyoshi responded in kind beneath him. 

After a few more moments of heatedly making out, Miyoshi breaks from the kiss, leaving Sakuma breathless and stifling a moan of lament. His eyes flicker open, their indigo irises but thin rings due to his pupils’ dilation, and he drinks in the sight of the other’s slight parted, kiss-swollen lips before lifting his gaze to meet Miyoshi’s. His optics’ burgundy depths are just as wide-blown, and he pauses to catch his breath. However, after peering closely at the taller male’s features, he grins, and his eyes glimmer with sudden mirth. Confusion swims across Sakuma’s expression as Miyoshi’s hands leave the back of his neck and snake down between their bodies. The ravenette’s pulse spikes as he feels the button of his jeans pop open.

Sakuma doesn’t even take the time to think about how he’d just met this man and knew absolutely nothing about him- however it was likely that that element is what added to his excitement. The taller male allows his more primal instincts to take over and impulsively moves a half-step back to give Miyoshi easier access. The sound of Sakuma’s zipper going down fills the room next, and the ebony-haired male shudders as Miyoshi’s knuckles brush past his hip hones in their task of yanking down both his jeans and boxer briefs. Once released, Sakuma’s cock springs forward, already half hard and keening for attention. Miyoshi’s lips find the ravenette’s again, and his hand reaches forward to wrap around the hilt of Sakuma’s member. 

With a quick squeeze that causes the taller man to groan distractedly into the kiss, Miyoshi begins jacking him off. He starts with a slow, grinding pace that rapidly draws Sakuma to full mast, his dick throbbing as the former teasingly drags the flat of his nail across the underside, ending the motion with a flick of his finger tip up against the sensitive base of its head. The taller male feels a bead of precum drip from the tip of his shaft, and inwardly shudders when Miyoshi’s thumb spreads it over the surrounding skin. The brunette’s free hand falls to rest on Sakuma’s hip, but not before giving his ass an appreciative grab.

This time Sakuma hears the knock on the door and he flinches, accidentally bitting softly at the other’s lower lip. He pulls back, afraid that he’d hurt or offended Miyoshi, but the other simply gazes up at him, licking his bottom lip and continuing his work on Sakuma’s cock. The half-lidded, lustful look pulls a low, growling, “Fuck” from the taller male’s maw.

“Just a minute,” Miyoshi loudly tosses his words toward the door, while increasing his speed and thus also Sakuma’s respiration. In retaliation, the ravenette swoops down to leave a trail of kisses across Miyoshi’s jaw, moving gradually down to where his throat and collarbone met and nibbling at the silken skin there. The taller male relishes in the feeling of Miyoshi’s breath against his hair, caused by the soft pants he pulls from the shorter male’s mouth with each kiss.

Maybe it was just due to the alcohol or the fact that he hadn’t been laid in months, but Sakuma found that he was nearing a climax quickly. He couldn’t help but rut into the hand that seemed to know exactly when to clench and twist to turn him into a puddle of mush on the inside. His knees felt weak; he was nothing but putty in Miyoshi’s palms. After a few moments, he abandons his task of nipping at Miyoshi’s neck and lays his forehead onto the other’s shoulder instead, not bothering to hide his ragged breathing. Sakuma’s dick pulses with the proximity of his release, and his fingers grip roughly at Miyoshi’s hips as he attempts to pull the shorter male closer, while also leaving him plenty of room to work. 

Without warning, the hand on Sakuma’s cock slows, and the ravenette can’t hold back the whimper that presses past his lips, his hands impulsively sliding up to Miyoshi’s waist. Immediately, pink embarrassment at the needy sound floods the ebony-haired male’s cheeks, and he’s grateful that his face is out of the other’s view. Still, Miyoshi laughs quietly at the other’s want, giving him a quick squeeze that almost makes Sakuma come right then and there.

“I told you I would make this fun, didn’t I?” Miyoshi chuckles again as he murmurs his words into the ravenette’s ear, the sound a deep and echoing bell that Sakuma swears he’ll hear in his dreams for weeks. Miyoshi gives the taller male two long, agonizingly gradual strokes before seemingly changing his mind. He relents, “However, there  _is_ someone waiting to use the restroom.’’

As if on cue a second and harsher knock pounds against the door, but both men only merely acknowledge it. Wordlessly, Miyoshi returns to his previous speed and Sakuma lifts his head from the brunette’s shoulder in order to catch his lips with his own. The taller male’s hips twitch involuntarily as Miyoshi’s tongue snakes into his mouth, and he realizes that the tease had only served to bring him to the edge faster.

Their kiss this time is relatively short, as pressure builds and builds and builds within Sakuma and he’s forced to pull away when euphoria makes his lips sloppy and disjointed. Miyoshi whispers something he doesn’t catch, and his eyes clench shut as a grunt rips between his teeth. His entire body tenses up. His hands dig into the soft flesh of Miyoshi’s sides. And he groans into his release.

For a moment all Sakuma can focus on is the rush of serotonin and oxytocin through his blood as the chemical cocktail places him high above cloud nine in waves of pleasure. The alcohol already coursing through his veins only serves to heighten the experience, and as he gradually drifts back down, he slowly becomes aware of himself again. 

“... Fuck...” Sakuma sighs into the relative quiet that had followed his orgasm, blinking as he raises his head to meet Miyoshi’s gaze. The brunette had gone still beneath him and was currently studying his features with a half smirk gracing his maw. His respiration had regulated, and save for unkempt state of his clothes, he looked completely normal again. However, as Sakuma peers closer, he’s able to make out the slightest dilation of the other’s pupils, their widened state betraying Miyoshi’s arousal. 

“I guess you can consider that a welcoming gift.” The shorter male’s free hand lifts up to gently press Sakuma away by the chest, while he uses his other elbow to nudge at the faucet of the sink behind him. The ravenette obliges the other’s unspoken request and steps back to lean against the wall, a look of confusion making his eyebrows furrow.

“What?” Sakuma inquires pantingly, his brain still a bit addled. He fights through the haze of one of the best orgasms he’d ever had as the sound of cascading water once again fills the room. Miyoshi had turned to the side, and was currently washing Sakuma’s seed off of his palm. The taller male watches numbly and tries to continue, “I don’t-”

Three loud bangs on the door cause both men to look toward it in alarm, though Sakuma’s the only one that jolts at the noise. A muffled voice is quick to follow suit, yelling harshly: “Come on man, I have to piss!” 

Mortification instantly floods Sakuma as he realizes what would happen once they opened the door. Whoever was out there would instantly connect the dots upon seeing the two of them together and in such a state as Sakuma with his pants down and Miyoshi with his clothes askew. Sure, Sakuma knew that people got caught screwing around all the time in places far more strange than a bathroom during a college party, but that didn’t make him dread being in that situation any less. 

“Dammit,” the ravenette swears under his breath and immediately begins yanking his boxers and jeans back up his legs, fumbling with the fabric in his haste. However, he pauses when a chuckle comes from the person before him, and glances up to glare at Miyoshi.

“We’ll make that two favors then.” The brunette had pivoted back to face the taller male and was nonchalantly leaning against the sink, drying his hands on a second towel from the hanging rack. He’d left the water running, and Sakuma raises an eyebrow at him when he still leaves it as he sets the cloth down on the counter. However, the brunette ignores his look and sets about straightening his clothes. He buttons up his collar a notch and runs his fingers briefly through his hair, continuing with, “But, you’ll be owing me for this one.”

“What are you talking about?” The ravenette finds his voice and asks the question suspiciously. He quickly finishes zipping up his jeans, and, copying Miyoshi, draws his hands through his pitch-black locks in an attempt to fix the mauling the shorter male had taken them through. He does the action with evident irritation, but a little voice in Sakuma’s head accuses him of liking it while it’d happened. He promptly shoves it away. 

“Just give me three minutes to stall and direct attention elsewhere.” While he speaks, the brunette bends down and throws open the cabinet below the sink. There’s a creaking sound and a grunt from him as he yanks on something, before he pulls himself upright once again. He kicks the cupboard back closed and returns his attention to the counter, turning the handles of the sink to their “off” position. Except, the water’s flow doesn’t cease at the command. Finally, Miyoshi tugs up the knob protruding from the back of the faucet, which causes the bowl’s drain to plug up.

Liquid splashes loudly into the basin as Sakuma realizes what Miyoshi was doing. He steps forward, mouth open to protest, but the shorter male cuts him off.

“You can thank me later, not to worry.” Miyoshi shoots him a smile, but its wrapped in a look that Sakuma can’t exactly decipher, yet it still sends a wave of chills up his spine. The shorter man then goes toward the door backwards, reaching behind himself for the knob. His piercing amber optics bore into Sakuma, pinning the ravenette speechless as he raises a finger to his lips. 

There’s a moment of stillness where Miyoshi silently shushes Sakuma, and the latter simply stares, dumbfounded. His jaw was hinged open, but things had happened so fast that he couldn’t keep track of them, and thus no words tumbled from his lips. The brunette before him seemed to know this too, as his mouth widened into a smile as he briefly studied Sakuma’s face. The expression bordered on a smirk but wasn’t quite that cocky, however, his amusement was clear by the mischievous narrowing of his eyes. 

If Sakuma was being honest with himself, he was more turned on than angered by it. 

“I’ll be seeing you, Sakuma. Enjoy the rest of the party,” Miyoshi says, his voice slightly lowered. Something about his tone gives Sakuma the feeling that his words have an underlying meaning, like Miyoshi had just told him an inside joke he wasn’t privy to. However, the taller male isn’t given enough time to really ponder it. 

Miyoshi blinks and then, as though a switch had been flipped, his face melts into an expression of embarrassment and apology. The one-eighty in demeanor makes Sakuma draw his head back in surprise and befuddlement, however, the ravenette is only presented with the image for a split second before the shorter male spins away from him. Music instantly blares into the room as the door is pushed open, but it is quickly muted again as Miyoshi slips through it. At the same time, the light in the room flicks off and leaves Sakuma staring into a tunnel, where the brunette’s lithe figure silhouettes the end. As he leaves, the taller man is just barely able to make out Miyoshi’s voice trailing into the din of noise, “I am so sorry, I don’t know how it... Help me find...”

Water was just beginning to trickle into the toes of Sakuma’s shoes, when the door clicked shut.


	2. Chapter 2

When Sakuma wakes, it takes him a moment to realize that the pounding in his head isn’t caused by the bass of a song thrumming through the floor. No, instead this throbbing headache was caused by the same thing that would likely shut down his liver if he kept doing it at the same intensity for the rest of his life. 

Groggily, the raven-haired male blinks open his eyes- but then immediately regrets it. He’d passed out facing a curtainless window, and currently the sun’s glaring morning rays were filtering through it with the sole purpose of scorching his retinas; as though he’d personally offended the great big ball of gas. The man clenches his optics shut once more and groans his malcontent. His brain pulsed painfully against his skull, making him wonder what the hell he did to deserve such torture. Tongue thick and throat desiccated, more than anything he craved a tall glass of cold water.

Sakuma slowly places his hands against the wooden floor boards and pushes himself upright, having to grossly peel his face away from the ground in the process. _Please don't let this be vomit,_ he thinks, and tries opening his eyes again. It’s bleary, and he’s completely standing by the time his azure optics have adjusted, but a single glance was plenty enough to tell that he wasn’t the only one who’d had a rough night.

Kappa Mu fraternity was going to have a hell of a time cleaning this place up, because Sakuma couldn’t see a single couch or chair that didn’t have some college student passed out on it. Some had even curled up with just a throw on the floor -or nothing at all like he had- and for each sleeping body, there were at least ten red solo cups strewn haphazardly about. That was only two of the party-objects accounted for, too; it didn’t include the random pieces of trash, or the overall stench of booze, cannabis, and tobacco.

Running a hand through his unkempt hair, the tall male heads straight over to the kitchen, only detouring in order to not stomp on ankles or wrists. He couldn’t care less about kicking aside cushions, beer cans or clothes, though. However, seeing so many swaths of discarded fabric made him eternally thankful that his own attire was still intact -bedraggled and in desperate need of a wash, but still intact. That thought made him try and recall exactly what happened last night, and he multitasked in also searching the kitchen cabinets for a clean cup.

 _Let’s see; when I arrived, I kept mostly to myself, but then Shogo showed up... We talked to Jen, got more drinks..._  Sakuma recalled a few other bodies and faces his high school buddy had introduced him to, but he couldn’t reproduce their names to save his life. Dancing had eventually ensued amidst the blur of conversations, and the protagonist almost laughs at himself aloud, because he remembered drinking so much that it was like he was trying to forget something. Maybe he had, especially after Miyoshi-

Abruptly, Sakuma’s fingers go slack and he almost drops the bottle of painkillers he’d lucked upon in one of the drawers. Fuzzy memories from within Kappa Mu’s bathroom begin to flash before his vision, making red dance across his cheeks in embarrassment. _God, I was like a fucking drunk freshman..._

He couldn’t believe he’d almost completely forgotten about that bizarre encounter. After all, even completely disregarding his interaction with the mysterious Delta frat, he’d only barely escaped the restroom without getting caught and having to explain the flood. The ravenette couldn’t remember when it had gotten fixed, or what exactly Miyoshi did, but frankly, he didn’t want to know. 

Sakuma’s head is quick to remind him about the task at hand, and his palms tremble as he pours out twice the recommended dosage. He tosses the pills back, letting out a grunt at the uncomfortable sensation of swallowing them dry and then pauses, bracing himself against the counter.

Now that he’d remembered it, he suddenly couldn’t get the scene out of his head; the addicting, cinnamon scent of Miyoshi, the way he’d felt under his hands and lips, and his honeyed voice... Only Sakuma’s iron-gripped self control kept him from delving further into the really steamy parts of that reverie, and with a grimace, the raven-haired male shakes it out of his mind. The motion further upsets his headache and the pain helps distract him, allowing him to sigh and resume his previous hunt for a glass.

When Sakuma finally retrieves a cup and fills it up at the sink, he basically empties its contents in a single, huge gulp. The cold temperature was a pleasant shock to his stomach and makes his shoulders shudder as the liquid refreshingly slides down his esophagus. For good measure, the ravenette sets the tall glass aside and splashes some of the cool water across his heated countenance. 

 _I should check to see if Shogo is still here...  and if he’s alright..._ Sakuma drags his wet hands up and down his face as though he could rub the hangover out of his system, and then dampens his hair by pushing it back. He pauses in glancing around the living room, suddenly feeling a little creeped out by the background noise of everyone’s breathing. Excluding the occasional snore, it was eerily quiet for how many people were present.

Additionally, he considered the fact that Miyoshi might still be here as well. He doubted it; getting wasted to the point of blacking out did not fit the profile Sakuma had unconsciously created in his head with regard to the russet-haired man, but there was still the possibility. That chance, and the siren call of a hot shower, is what pushed the hung over male into a moment of cowardice. He first checked to be sure his phone was on him and that he had his keys stowed away in his pocket, and then he left for his dorm. 

* * *

The party apparently acted as a catalyst, because as soon as Sakuma goes returns to class on Monday, he seems to start seeing Delta frats everywhere. He had at least one in most of his classes; including first years in year three-level lectures. 

It started out with the ravenette recognizing the tall playboy from the party sitting to the rear of his criminal psychology lecture. His side swept bangs and mischievous smirk were easy to identify, and he seemed equally as laid-back as he had been two nights before. Directly beside him sat a much shorter male with an oval-shaped, youthful face that caused Sakuma to almost mistake him as a freshman. His hair was just a touch lighter than the other’s ebony frock, and his eyes were a soft brown that made him appear very approachable.

Somehow, our main character could tell that this man was a Delta brother as well; both men exuded the same vibe. Each wore casual clothes and looked like any average college student attending class, but they only talked amongst one another and hardly paid any attention to the professor even though he was going over a completely new concept. Sakuma was beginning to see the exclusivity and arrogance Shogo had mentioned at the party.

The same situation happened in his second class of the day with the other man from the party: the brunette Delta who had looked immensely disinterested at the Kappa Mu house. Fitting of his attitude, the university student had sat with his feet propped up in the seat before him and his hands clasped loosely behind his head the entire lesson. Sakuma had felt some level of disgust at the disrespectful posture, but quickly decided that it really wasn’t any of his business. If it bothered the professor, he didn’t say anything- but that gave the indigo-eyed male the feeling that it happened so often that the older man was used to it. Either that, or the teacher had never noticed.

This time the man had two other fraternity brothers with him. The male directly to his right had longer, center-parted hair that just barely brushed across his cheekbones. It was an oak-shade of brown that matched his optics, and the slight wave to it helped frame his handsome face. He was dressed a bit less casually, with a white v-neck and gray jacket, but he didn’t stand out too much- if you don’t count the fact that he had the full attention of the girls seated two rows in front of them. 

Further right sat the tallest of the three. His hair was an inky hue and cropped short, leaving his box-shaped face as his most prominent feature; his build reminded Sakuma of his friend, Shogo’s, but his expression was far too serious in comparison to the high school prankster’s. He was the first Delta frat our main character had seen actually mind some attention to the lesson, but he still didn’t take notes and paused every once and a while to whisper to his companions. 

Subconsciously, the ravenette began to track who was in the fraternity and what classes he had with them, all the while not being able to tell why they fascinated him so much. Maybe he found their behavior mysterious, or Shogo’s warnings about them were simply getting to his head; however, Sakuma had the sinking feeling that his preoccupation with that had a lot to do with the fact that even after two weeks, when he’d rotated through each of his classes at least once, he never saw Miyoshi. He wasn’t surprised, as he was sure he’d have noticed the disarming male weeks ago had they shared a class, but even when he curiously trailed after a few of the fraternity members on his way to other classes, the mahogany-eyed student was never present. For some reason, it bothered him. 

But why would it? Sakuma had had less than five minute’s worth of a conversation with the guy, and he was disappointed over not seeing him? Sure, he’d made out with the brunette and even came all over the guy’s hand, but weirder things have happened at college parties. The ebony-haired male tried his hardest to convince himself that it didn’t mean anything. Miyoshi was nothing more than a passing infatuation; he’d forget about those piercing, gorgeous optics soon enough. 

* * *

  _Ping!_

Sakuma was sitting at a cafe, sipping an iced coffee across from Shogo, when his phone piped up to announce a message. Letting out a deep sigh, because it had interrupted his train of thought, the ravenette sets down the high lighter he’d been using to study, and begins to rummage around in his bag for the device.

“Huh, I thought _I_ was your only friend.” Shogo hardly even glances up from his own textbook, his lips quirked into a playful smile. He was dressed in a fitted green T-shirt today and an ashen-hued hoodie that boasted the band Green Day on the back. Dark-wash jeans and white sneakers completed his outfit, along with a black watch on his right wrist. 

After Sakuma had left the party and finally got around to calling Shogo, he’d learned that his friend’s own exit had occurred sometime around 3 am with two girls from Chi Omega. Over the phone, Shogo had made sure to let the other know that he’d fared far better than “alright” and even offered to share the two women’s numbers with him. With a sharp rejection, the indigo-eyed man had immediately tried to turn the conversation away from that topic. Honestly, the shorter male loved his long-time comrade, but he could do without the nitty gritty details of Shogo’s sex life. 

The two of them were currently seated in the far corner of one of the university’s many coffee shops on campus. This particular location happened to sit perfectly halfway between Sakuma’s dorm and Shogo’s apartment, and it had long since become a habit for the friends to meet up and study- especially when a class they shared had a test coming up. However, finals were looming in the near future now, and that was the main motivation for this reading session. Currently, their little table was strewn with books and papers, pencils and highlighters galore- it was a wonder how they managed to fit everything onto its tiny surface.

“Who says it’s from a friend?” Sakuma cuts a look across the table, good-naturedly rolling his eyes at the other’s dig even though he isn’t looking. The shorter man’s own attire consisted of a loose blue shirt with a styled button-up collar, along with jeans and black vans. After a few more rustles of his hand swirling around in his pack, he pulls his iPhone into the daylight. “Could just be an email, or data overture. I’ll go ahead and... turn it on silent... Well that’s weird.”

The male’s indigo eyes blink in puzzlement at the unknown number captioning the new message notification displayed on his screen. He couldn’t even remember the last time such a thing had happened. Call him old-fashioned and paranoid, but Sakuma hardly ever gave out his information to strangers. He tried to recall if he’d shared his contact with someone recently as he thumbs in his passcode to actually view the message.

“What’s up?” Now Sakuma had Shogo’s full attention, his ocean-hued optics narrowing in curiosity at his friend’s sudden shift in demeanor.

“I don’t know this number.” The shorter male explains, clicking open the text and arching a brow at the words written there. There was an address and time, along with the instructions: ‘Tonight. Go to the back; tell them “Sorry, but my shoes are black.” Dress nice.’ He flips the phone around to show his companion, asking “Do you know this place?”

“Yeah, it’s a liquor lounge and mini casino in the city a little ways off-campus.” Shogo peers closely at the screen, his eyes scanning the letters before flicking up to meet Sakuma’s gaze. “This message seems sketchy as fuck. Are you going to go?” 

“I’m not sure. I’d like to know who it was from though...” He trails off and then shakes his head. _What am I doing? I can text them too..._ Sakuma quickly types out ‘Who is this?’ and presses send. Then, tossing his phone onto the table to wait for a reply, he says to Shogo, “Maybe they’ll be honest and go ahead and say they’re a serial-”

The transfer student’s voice is cut off by another ping- and he glances at it in surprise. He wasn’t expecting such a swift answer. However, he’s quick to pick the device back up and open the lock screen. 

**A friend.**

**With a third welcoming gift.**

Confusion makes Sakuma’s brows furrow, but then realization hits. He starts, almost choking on the straw he’d absentmindedly taken between his lips. _No way; I never gave him my number?_ He glances up to see Shogo giving him the strangest of looks, inquiry etched into his features.

“Ah... I do know them-” Sakuma’s words get caught in his throat as he realizes that he’d never told Shogo about what happened at the party two weeks ago. His friend’s blatant dislike for Delta fraternity, paired with the explicit warning to stay away from them had discouraged the shorter man from sharing such a story when the party was brought up. Another opportunity hadn’t presented itself since, and all of that was simply too long of a story for the two of them to hash out right now. He didn’t want to make the rest of their study session awkward, and there was a chance he was mistaken after all, and the mystery sender wasn’t actually Miyoshi. Quickly changing tact, he settles on, “They’re from a class of mine and this is probably for a study group they’d mentioned earlier this week.” 

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, even if it was merely a little white one. Our main character absolutely hated deception; such actions and words were for the gutless and weasels of society. Though, as Shogo gazes at him for a moment, making his subject squirm uncomfortably under the weight of his teal optics, Sakuma does feel a little gutless. Finally, his companion cracks a smile.

“Wow, your friends must be really nerdy to make invites like that.” He lets out a chortle, shaking his head in mock disappointment. His glance once again returns to his work as he adds, “If you ever consider inviting me to one of your mysterious back alley meetings, though, don’t. I have a reputation to uphold.”

The shorter male lets out a breath, thankful that Shogo doesn’t have any reason to mistrust him. Plus, Sakuma has every intention of telling his best friend what happened eventually; now simply wasn’t a good time. The ravenette cracks a grin at the other’s snarkiness and fires back, “We wouldn’t want you boozing up our group anyways.”

“Hey now, I’m a lot more than just alcohol-” Shogo’s voice goes up with his optics as he looks at Sakuma indignantly, the expression only intensifying when the latter cuts him off.

“Bullshit.”

After a few moments, the two students’ banter quiets down and they return to sipping their coffees and working on their material. However, Sakuma finds it increasingly difficult to concentrate. He was burning with curiosity and wanted to text Miyoshi more queries- like where he got the contact from, why he was being invited somewhere, if he was going to be kidnapped. There was even the possibility this was nothing but an eerily coincidental prank message; however, the ebony-haired man doubted it. Either way, he wanted to interrogate the sender. 

Sakuma finally bails on Shogo and the cafe once he deems it appropriately late enough to warrant needing to get ready for this peculiar meeting. He shoves his things away; trying not to look like he was in too much of a hurry, and bids his friend good bye as he exits. His mind was full of questions and thoughts of a certain russet-haired man, and he almost misses the narrow-eyed expression the taller man shoots in his direction; however he does pretend that he did. 

_Talk to you later, Shogo..._

The air is relatively warm for a late afternoon, and the ravenette breathes in the scent of the lilac bushes that lined the sidewalk. They were just beginning to bloom and thus dotted the green foliage with little buds of color. Had he not been distracted, the ravenette’s strides might have faltered in order to admire them for a moment.

However, he was distracted. Very much so. As soon as he was far away enough from the cafe, Sakuma yanks out his phone. His steps are quick and his feet carry him in the direction of his dorm automatically, leaving him able to focus on the screen instead of directions.

**S: How did you get this number?**

He presses send and flicks the side switch to put the device on vibrate, adjusting the strap of his backpack as he does. Again, the ebony-haired male is caught off guard by how quickly the other responds. He’d only begun to slip the device into his jean’s pocket when it buzzes in his palm.

**M: I’m a man of many talents, Sakuma**

The person in question narrows his eyes at the message.

**_S: And what does that mean, exactly?_ **

**_M: Would you like to find out? ;)_ **

_A winky face? Really?_ However, Sakuma’s cheeks heat up a touch at the latent innuendo in the message. Now he knew for sure that this was Miyoshi. A few seconds pass before he types again.

**S: What’s this invitation for?**

**M: It’s just a little get-together**

**S: How vague.**

**M: I can’t ruin the surprise :)**

Sakuma rolls his eyes at the text, becoming a bit frustrated by the caginess behind it and Miyoshi’s apparent inability to give a straight forward answer. His glance moves north of his phone as he pulls to a stop at his destination. 

He places the phone away for a moment in order to key in the code to the building’s front door, and quickly steps inside. The complex was about seven stories high and had no more than five double suites per floor. Since Sakuma had transferred in the middle of the year, he had had very little say in his dorm or roommate. In fact, he was actually technically in a room by himself and simply shared a bathroom with two others in the suite across from him. Personally, the ravenette appreciated the extra privacy, don’t get him wrong, but he hoped to get an apartment off-campus next year, when he was more familiar with the area and could split rent with a friend.

Sakuma by passes the dorm advisor’s front desk and student’s lounge room in order to take the elevator up to the third floor. Its hinges creak as it halts due to the complex’s age, but our main character pays it no mind as he steps off and strides past others’ dorms. There were currently galaxy decorations littering the hall for this month’s theme- “Shoot for the Stars!”- and as he stops in front of his door, the ebony-haired male notices that someone had stuck nebula and planet stickers randomly across it. He didn’t mind really, as long as he doesn’t have to clean it up. With a quick twist of a key, he enters his suite. 

The only word that could really describe Sakuma’s room is... bland. However, a lot of that had to do with the strict rules at his previous college, which had become habit after two years there. They weren’t allowed to hang any decorations for fear of it ruining the walls; beds had to be made every morning with random checks, and you never really knew when the cleaners were going to show so you didn’t want to leave valuable items lying about. 

Because of that, anybody passing through might assume the ravenette had come from a military academy. The entire left side of the suite was bare, as it would have belonged to another student had Sakuma acquired a roommate; others likely would have utilized the extra space, but the transfer student had no real reason to- he’d flown on a plane to get here and had had few belongings shipped; boxes could only be so big without draining his bank account-  so he didn’t. 

His bed was pushed against the wall that included the entrance, causing the foot of it to be a little less than three feet away once you walked in. It was raised, so the top of the mattress reached to about his elbow, and his sheets were a deep crimson with white pillowcases and a heather-gray blanket folded in the corner. The university-supplied wooden dresser was tucked under the bed, and he’d pushed the matching desk against the wall perpendicular. He had a sink right next to the door that lead into his shared bathroom, and a closet right next to that.

There were no photos of friends and family, nor any colorful knickknacks, and even Sakuma had to admit that his living space had little to no personality. He didn’t particularly mind it, but it did remind him a bit too much of his room back home with his parents. And that was definitely something he tried not to think about. 

Sakuma’s backpack lands with a soft thud as he tosses it into his cushioned desk chair, and he follows it over to the table before pulling out his phone again. It lets out a little chime when he plugs it into its charger and he taps on the lit up screen to unlock it once more.

**S: Anything else I need to know?**

The ravenette leaves the device as he heads for his closet, already contemplating what “Dress nice” meant, exactly. He pulls out a few dress shirts, quickly vetoing each, before settling on a white button-up and dark gray jacket. Matching cinereal slacks, polished shoes, and a black tie pull it all together, and Sakuma on a whim decides to accessorize with a silver wristwatch. He’d recently finished tucking in his shirt, and was buckling an ebony belt across his front when his phone finally buzzed again, the abrupt vibration making him jump.

But this time when he checks it, the screen only displays a class email from his psychology professor. Brow furrowing, the man thumbs open the device and navigates to Miyoshi’s chat just in case he’d missed the message- since the other tended to reply like lightning. However, there was nothing there; it made Sakuma wonder if he’d gotten busy for some reason, and he was surprised to feel a small pang of disappointment at the lack of response. Shaking his head to clear it, he scolds himself: _Quit acting like a school girl with a crush._

Yet that statement begged the question: was he a school girl with a crush?

A quick glance at the clock told him to get a move on or he was going to be late. 

* * *

After carefully navigating the city’s bustling metro system with the help of Google Maps on his phone, our main character finds himself outside of  an establishment called _Maki’s._ He’d never heard of the lounge, and its sign was relatively simple: nothing but a neon rectangle of scarlet cursive letters hanging over blacked-out double doors. It was the corner section of a larger building with brightly lit neighboring restaurants and commercial outlets, but all of its windows were shut. Any passerby -unless they specifically looked at the lit-up title- would assume it was vacant. For a moment, the ravenette fears that he was given the wrong address, and almost texts Mioyshi to confirm. However, the russet-haired male never replied to his previous question, and Sakuma was pushing the designated time to arrive. In the end, he simply enters the building-

\- to find that it was anything but empty. The ravenette is immediately jostled by shoulders and elbows as people make their way to and from the bar, some clutching drinks that all seem to tilt precariously in Sakuma’s direction. He’s taken aback at the sudden flurry of motion, and quickly sidesteps away from others in order to take in his surroundings. The lights are dimmed, but there’s a slow strobe of crimson, azure, and viridian to illuminate the lounge, poker tables, and bodies currently occupying the dance floor. The student’s indigo gaze watches as the crowd ripples and flows with the beat of the music, which thrummed pleasantly in the background. 

As he adjusts to the starkness of the different atmosphere compared to the evening streets outside, the ebony-haired man realizes that it actually isn’t totally jam-packed. The building itself was merely a bit more compact and forced the people closer together, but over-all it was much more classy than a sleazy bar. One glance at most of the patron’s up-scale attire makes the ravenette wish he’d worn something a bit fancier- maybe even a suit. The bar was large and its alley was stacked almost to the ceiling in expensive liquor, vodka, and various mixes; every seat and stool was immaculate, and the glasses hanging above the bar tenders sparkled like a huge diamond chandelier.

Sakuma immediately felt way out of his element, and wondered why there hadn’t even been a bouncer at the door to weed out people who looked like they wouldn’t be able to afford their cocktails. He muses, _Maybe they’re relying on it looking like a shabby hole-in the wall from outside, and all of these people are regulars...?_

The ravenette gathers himself and then slowly makes his way to where he assumes the back of the lounge is, trying not to run over others and spill their drinks on them- he really wasn’t in the mood for a fight, especially over something that was probably worth more than what he had in his wallet. It’s there that he actually does find a bouncer, or at least a security guard standing in front of a door decorated with plastered newspaper clippings and old photos. The faux-wooden walls are similarly decorated, and though it’s a bit hodgepodge, it’s not over done. Sakuma finds the look quite aesthetically pleasing. 

He draws to a halt in front of the larger man, who dons a black suit and cliched headset; and though the pierced look the other gives is quite intimidating, the ravenette isn’t truly phased by it since he was more nervous about what was behind the door than this stranger. Sakuma opens his mouth to speak the silly sounding pass-phrase Miyoshi had given him, but the guard cuts him off.

“Could I trouble you for a match, friend?” His voice is deep, and he has to speak up a bit in order to be heard over the music. His expression doesn’t shift an inch when he inquires, and the curiousness of the question makes the ravenette hesitate, because it sounds pretty ridiculous coming out of the bouncer’s mouth. His hands were resting, completely empty at his sides, and though the scent of tobacco hung lightly in the air, Sakuma highly doubted that the employee was allowed to smoke while working. 

“Ah- Sorry,” The ebony-haired male decides to just say the provided sentence. He stammers, feeling extremely awkward and leaning in so that he doesn’t have to shout. “Sorry, but my shoes are black.”

To Sakuma’s latent surprise, the guard gives him a curt nod, and instantly swings open the entrance for him. The ravenette quickly brushes off his shock and steps forward to find himself in a narrow hallway. Its design matched the main room of the establishment, except it had circular lights hanging from the ceiling that cast the wooden walls and fancy black tiling underfoot in a yellow glow.

“Your party is the third door on the right.” Again, that baritone reverberates in Sakuma’s ear, and a pointed finger enters the shorter man’s line of vision as the bouncer leans into the corridor to direct him. “A server will be sent to take care of you momentarily.”

Nodding mutely, Sakuma takes a deep breath before advancing. When the door shuts behind him, the noise from beyond is immediately muffled, but the bass still buzzes electrically under his shoes. He can feel it with every step as he approaches the room he’d been directed to. Apprehensively, he hesitates right outside with the fleeting thought of this being a prank crossing his mind. His stomach drops in anxiety. It was kind of foolish that such a notion could have only now occurred to him, but there was no turning around now. 

Inhaling heavily once more and straightening his tie with one hand, Sakuma uses his free one to turn the knob. 

“I fold.” The unfamiliar voice is the first thing to greet the ebony-haired male, along with the heavy scent of cigarettes. He pauses in the middle of the doorway, taking in the group of men, who all in turn break away from their game in order to look up at him. 

Most of them were sitting in plush leather chairs at a large, round table with wooden edging. Cards, poker chips and ashtrays dot its surface, along with crystalline glass tumblers filled lightly with amber-colored liquid. Sakuma assumed that they’d been procured from the lavish mini bar lining the rear of the room, where a single man sat, though there wasn’t anyone behind it to tend. Surrounding the table were a couple loosely occupied opulent sofas and armchairs, each one tilted slightly to face different directions for a more comfortable feel; in the corner, raised high to the ceiling, was a muted flat screen that displayed a TV show our main character wasn’t familiar with.

This was all information that Sakuma took in out of his periphery in a fraction of a second, because once his indigo optics met a certain russet-haired male’s, his focus was compromised. 

“Sakuma, welcome.” Voice just as silken as he’d remembered it, the man in question gazes at where Miyoshi was seated at the table. His attire consisted of a pressed white button up underneath a fitted brown vest and tie, with the suit’s jacket laid neatly over the back of his chair. He was lounging casually in his seat, with one hand in his lap and the other holding his cards flat against the ebony of the table. With a sharp jerk of his chin, he motions to an empty seat. “Why don’t you join us?”

“...Ah, sure.” Sakuma clears his throat and warily advances, having to walk a few paces around to the left of the table in order to sink into an empty seat. Feeling like an ant under the scrutiny of so many eyes, coupled with his stomach lurching at the sly grin that ghosts its way onto Miyoshi’s expression, he states, “But I haven’t played poker in a while.”

“That’s fine. Odagiri, mind dealing out a new hand?” The former man addressed follows Miyoshi’s line of sight and recognizes the quieter man from his class with the two other Delta brothers. He was seated two spots away from Sakuma on the right, and donned a dark gray version of Miyoshi’s outfit while having similarly discarded the overcoat piece to relax. Now that our main character notices it, every one of them wore some kind of eloquent ensemble, and he picks at the tip of his tie under the table, feeling even more like a fly in the ointment.

While he’s distracted, Odagiri nods and the rest of the men begin passing their cards back to the apparent dealer. Evidently they’d only recently begun a round and could easily start over with Sakuma’s addition.

“I believe introductions are in order?” The ravenette’s gaze moves toward the voice, and his indigo optics land on a male he vaguely recalled from a class. The man had short obsidian locks that contrasted against his pale skin, and strikingly blue almond-shaped eyes that smiled politely with the rest of his expression. He was sitting directly across from Sakuma, and placed a hand against the front of his charcoal gray vest as he presented himself. “My name is Tazaki Akamatsu. I’m a child development major. Though Amari and Fukumoto do a better job of parenting the group of kids before you now.”

 _That’s a bit random,_ Sakuma comments to himself, and his brows furrow in confusion as quiet chuckles echo around the table at Tazaki’s teasing tone. He got the impression that an inside joke had just flown over his head.

“Speaking of which, that’s Amari Chigusa, future veterinarian.” Tazaki continues and motions with an open palm to the man sitting directly right of Sakuma, pointing out another face the former distantly recalls from a class. He was the one with longer, copper-brown hair and droopy eyes that made him seem as though he were always looking up at you; his light gray suit was still completely intact, and he smiled cordially as he was introduced. 

“And Fukumoto Kiriyama, who’s majoring in the culinary arts.” This person was completely new to Sakuma, and wasn’t sitting at the table. In fact, our main character had to swivel in his chair a bit in order to look at the tall male seated on the couch behind him (He was going to get whiplash at this rate). The man’s suit was a light blue that set off the dark hue of his eyes, and his close-cropped hair made his face elongate. The coin he absent-mindedly flipped flashed in the dimmed lighting, and though he did little more than nod in acknowledgment of his name, the ebony-haired male didn’t get the impression that he was a stand-offish sort of person. 

As Tazaki was concluding the latest introduction, the door to the room quietly opens and a sandy-haired waitress enters. She bows her head politely and asks the general group for forgiveness of the interruption, before turning her hazel gaze on Sakuma. “Sir, would you like a set of chips?”

“Hah?” The male in question returns her look questioningly, before he remembers that he was in fact here to play poker. All the names and new people were beginning to reel around in his head- and he hadn’t even finished meeting everyone. Clearing his throat, he corrects his inquiry with, “Oh, yes please.”

“He’ll also take one of my usuals. On me.” Miyoshi pipes up from across the table. Completely prepared to protest, Sakuma’s gaze snaps to him as he tips his rocks glass towards his mouth. The amber liquid sloshing about within the crystal halts just at his lips as the latter’s eyes flick up to meet the former’s indigo optics. Their mahogany depths smoldered and pinned the protagonist in place, making his words die on his tongue. He hardly even heard the waitress verbalize her confirmation, nor did he notice how quiet the room became afterwards. The only sound was Odagiri re-dealing out cards.

“Alright. If you two are done eye-fucking each other-” The man’s words make Sakuma blanch and he tears his line of sight away from Miyoshi; but not before he sees the smug smirk half-hidden behind the other’s cup. A chorus of snickers once again makes its way around the room, leaving the ravenette wanting nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Yet he knows that won’t happen, and so he decides to glower at the speaker instead.

It was the shortest Delta frat from the party of two weeks ago. Contrary to the bored expression Sakuma was used to seeing on his countenance, he was grinning now, and his optics glimmered with mirth despite the glare leveled at him. His light-brown suit was a bit rumpled from lounging across a sofa, though he straightens it a bit as he approaches. He throws his arm across the shoulders of the last person at the table that the protagonist had yet to learn the name of.

“I’m Hatano Nakagawa; this is Jitsui Tendo-” The small-statured male’s burnt sienna optics hardly even blink at the sudden contact from Hatano, and he offers a soft smile to Sakuma, who finally remembers him from a lecture or two. The ravenette notes how tiny he looks in his khaki suit, and even shy, which the former didn’t recall getting as a first impression of the man. However, he has little time to consider it before Hatano is pointing at the very last person to be introduced.

“And that’s Kaminaga Nobu.” The playboy from the party raises his hand to wave from his seat at the bar. He donned a tawny vest and dark brown tie and was grinning as he sat facing the wrong direction on the low-backed stool. Lazily swiveling one way and then the other, he watched the rest of the group with mild amusement, though half of his attention was on the muted flat screen.

Still, Sakuma nodded to return the welcoming gesture he’d received, and then turned his gaze toward the larger group of men at the table. His head was now truly spinning with how much information that had been shoved in there, but he tried to remember basic decorum. He’s about to open his mouth to state that he was very glad to have met everyone, when Hatano continues talking.

“Now that that’s out of the way, you guys might want to continue before Odagiri gets bored and starts playing on his phone. And then _I’d_ have to deal.” The brunette straightens up from how he’d embraced Jitsui, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. Everyone, excluding Sakuma, either groans or rolls their eyes at the shorter male’s words with Odagiri in particular shooting a sharp look at the brunette for the subtle dig. However, in Hatano’s defense, the ravenette did spot the flash of the latter’s phone screen timing out under the table. Yet, based off of all of their reactions,  our main character could only guess that Hatano might not be very good at dealing. That, or he did it far too well to let the others have fun. 

At least, Sakuma assumed that this game was just for kicks. He hadn’t given up any money for the chip set placed before him and he presumed the others hadn’t either, so it wasn’t like there was any real risk to playing. The male was still curious as to why he’d been invited in the first place, however he simply picks up the two cards that’d been handed to him when the rest of the group does the same. Miyoshi’s voice causes him to look up from his hand, which at a quick glance is relatively good for a first deal.

“Shall we begin?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, half a year later, I've decided to continue this. Truthfully, it's always been in the back of my mind because I love the Joker Game anime and its characters so much, but life simply got in the way. This chapter is very exposition heavy, unfortunately so sorry if it's a bit boring; we'll get into some better bits later.  
> I'm a huge sucker for canon parallels, just fair warning lol  
> Also, I'm sorry if this chapter's tone sounds completely different from the first's; six months is a long time and I tried to make it sound smooth in the transition but I can't really tell if I've succeeded.  
> Please leave me feedback on how to improve on anything you see, from questions, comments, to concerns! And give me better ideas for their majors >.< I literally just came up with them on the spot but I know there're better head canons out there.  
> Thank you bunches! Till next time :)

**Author's Note:**

> So I have a couple chapters planned out for this, but I wanted to post the first one to ask and see if this concept is worth pursuing. Canonically, there's already so little to go off of personality-wise for each character, and trying to put a younger spin on top of that is a bit difficult. Thus, I apologize if characters seem a bit OC. I'll try to keep them as accurate as possible. Please feel free to give me suggestions on how to improve.
> 
> Unbeta'd, so sorry for grammar mistakes! Please leave some feedback on whether or not I should continue, or if you simply feel like leaving something. All comments and kudos are appreciated ^^


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